


this is where i'll be, so heavenly // petekey

by otterhatesyou



Category: Fall Out Boy, My Chemical Romance
Genre: Cowboy Hats, Fluff, I love that song, M/M, Slow dances, Wedding, also michael by franz ferdinand, and cute vows, blond!pete, other emo fuckers, petekey, petekey one shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-08
Updated: 2020-05-08
Packaged: 2021-03-03 01:28:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,828
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24076735
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/otterhatesyou/pseuds/otterhatesyou
Summary: pete is a hopeless romantic, mikey has a poker face. in the end, the frenzy of wedding planning seems to be all worthwhile.
Relationships: Mikey Way/Pete Wentz
Comments: 6
Kudos: 35





	this is where i'll be, so heavenly // petekey

**Author's Note:**

> hello, just a petekey wedding one shot, or how the thoughts go in my head, unfiltered. if you're here from twitter, i am sending u big kisses. if you're tabby (aka the legend who gave me the ideas for this fic and should totally get full credit) then i adore you, my mikeyway.

pete proposes to mikey in a way that is so perfectly pete, and the fact that mikey doesn’t see it coming shocks him more than the proposal itself. after the big grand gesture of a boombox, fireworks and the very stage they met on, he says yes, of course, and flings his arms around pete all dramatic. he then has about twenty seconds left of soaking in the bliss, because the chaos follows soon after.

"i think i'm a born wedding planner", pete says to him the next morning, sliding back into bed where mikey is sat taking in a mass of bridal magazines. he makes grabby hands when he sees his fiance holding his coffee cup, the one with the big 'M' painted onto the ceramic face. pete got it the week after they got back together a year after what has become known as “the summer of like”, convinced mikey would be stopping over at his place enough to need his own mug. here they are a two years later, and mikey practically lives in chicago, thankful for pete’s optimism surrounding their relationship every single day. he’s got more than just a drinking reciprocal scattered around pete’s apartment now - the bathroom boasts two tooth brushes and he has his own closet. it makes them feel totally grown up. 

"saviour", mikey takes a long sip, then sets it aside and slaps his hands at the magazines. "these are like... real homophobic pieces of shit, you know?", he says, but pete is already kissing his neck, and the enthusiastic sounds mikey is making only further heighten pete's obsession with the skin between his shoulder and jaw.  
"you'd look cute in a wedding dress", pete offers, smug expression on his face which mikey appreciates. "put the magazines away, mikeyway", he sounds whiney, clingy, and mikey sighs and gives in, running his long fingers through the shorter boy's hair: it's blond, but the dye faded fast and his dark roots are showing, akin to his stubble (which mikey actually doesn't mind the feel of when their faces are this close, surprisingly). he kisses pete twice on the head and watches the way the boy smiles to himself and settles into mikey's chest. 

since last night, everything has been twice as shiny, and the engagement rings they're wearing seem twice as big, and all mikey wants to do is scream 'i love you' from the top of his lungs, but pete thought they should wait to tell everyone. it was a smart idea. it meant they could snuggle there in mikey's bed for hours without worrying about gerard blowing up mikey's phone.

"so, i've got an idea”, mikey says, propping himself up on one elbow. “i think i want to take your last name, if that’s okay”.  
it’s a small gesture. really tiny. and yet it has pete grinning like the hopeless romantic he is, sheerly because he knows that’s exactly what mikey isn’t. to mikey, this is the same as the grand gesture proposal, and that’s the moment pete knows he’s certain they’re made to spend eternity with each other.

the flurry of wedding planning in the months that follow nearly drive mikey insane, because if there’s one thing about pete that he can’t decide whether to love or loathe, it’s his attention to detail. he’s moved to chicago temporarily to be with pete, but also because that’s where they’re getting married, and gerard flies in from jersey quite regularly, sometimes accompanied with his parents, or frank, or ray.

he comes over to the messy apartment solo one friday night to have a drink with his soon-to-be-married brother, and the two barely get a word in before pete comes running in from the office asking something along the lines of “who the hell am i supposed to be matching my tie to here?”.  
“you’re the groom, aren’t you?”, mikey hollers back, a comment that would seem unhelpful if pete’s brain wasn’t so frazzled.  
“right. you’re right, i love you", pete snaps his fingers and disappears back down the hallway, and gerard laughs at the scene.  
pete's been significantly less stressed out, despite planning the whole thing seemingly by himself. when the day of the wedding actually comes, "so you really know nothing? how very 'don't tell the bride' of you", he mocks.  
"yeah, but i think it's sweet - pete’s really thrown himself into planning the ceremony, i just can't wait to see his stupid little face when i walk down the aisle".  
"and you spoke to dad about giving you away?".  
"look, i don’t... him agreeing to turn up is good enough", mikey shrugs helplessly, and gerard puts a comforting hand on his leg. what happens next is all too cliche - the crying, the hugging, it makes mikey sort of queasy - but he comes out of it with the best promise his brother has ever made him.  
"i'll give you away, mikes". 

mikey becomes so content with having nothing to do in the final weeks leading up to the wedding that he nearly spontaneously combusts when pete runs into the kitchen on a sunday night and grabs him by the shoulders.  
"we don't have a song", he says, expecting mikey to match his energy completely. mikey doesn't. he actually just looks up from his stir fry and laughs.  
"what? we're both in bands, aren't we?".  
"there's that naive optimism that i love", pete stands up on his toes for a kiss, deepened only by his feverish manner. "but no, not like that, i mean we don't have a god damn first dance song. god, how could i be so dumb? mikes, you have to pick a song. for us to have our first dance to. please, i have enough on my plate with making sure they order in the right chairs and making sure the wedding party turns up on time - michael, my love, i trust you like no other. whatever you pick is fine but please tell patrick what it is by next sunday so that he can tell the wedding band to learn it".  
"alright, cut the theatrics", mikey whispers, his voice soothing pete in a way no one elses ever has. "i'll pick it. go set the dinner table", he says, and once pete walks off with a significantly bouncier spring in his step, he sucks air in through his teeth and whispers "shit" under his breath.

no song that pops into his head from that point on seems worthy of being their first dance. when mikey overthinks it, which he usually does, he realises no song could ever match the deep and complicated story they have, and that no lyrics could ever perpetuate the feeling of emptiness mikey feels when he's not by pete's side. his mindset flickers rapidly from thought to helpless thought, and he even has a tiny moment where he genuinely convinces himself that dancing in complete silence might be the way forward.

in fact, mikey's just about ready to phone patrick and admit his defeat when pete's voice rings sweetly throughout his ears. "michael, my love, i trust you with everything", mikey thinks, and relief washes over him so quickly that he nearly gasps out loud. with those words ringing in his head, he's got it. he's got the song, and in no time, he'll have he husband to match.

the wedding day comes, pete is, unsurprisingly, excruciatingly flustered. he’s just about finished drilling patrick and gerard for the shades of blue on their ties being slightly different to the ribbons that are tied to the chairs. patrick takes him by the collar and gently asks him if there’s anything, and he means anything (within the realm of sanity), that they can do to ease his nerves, but pete only wants one thing. 

it seems helpless at first, all of the back and forth between him and patrick, and endless compliation of “i have to see mikey”, followed by a stern, “no”. but eventually, patrick gives in, once pete utters the words “i cant even remember what his face looks like! tell me what his face looks like”. he figures breaking tradition is an okay enough compromise to stop pete’s fast descent into insanity. 

there are still some limitations, though, like mikey being on the other side of a locked door, but pete presses his back against the wood panel and looks out into the hallway, knowing mikey is doing the same in his hotel room.   
“hey. you getting cold feet?”, mikey asks, and just hearing his smooth voice stops pete’s palpitations instantly. “because if you think things are going too fast, we can just go on a big vacation and come back to this. pick up where we left off, like we did all those years ago”. 

mikey’s so in love that he’d be happy with a shotgun wedding. he’s been dreaming of this day for months - years - but if pete wants to cancel now, he’s one hundred percent ready to swap the suit for skinny jeans and head to paris or london for a month. this is why pete knows he loves mikeyway with every bone in his little body. 

“no way”, pete breathes out. he could call it quits again, but he wants nothing more than to be mikey’s husband right now. “i just needed to hear you”. his voice unintentionally shakes, and mikey is using everything in his power not to open the door just to hold his hand.   
“you haven’t seen me in fourteen hours and you’re acting like you’re dying”, mikey laughs, shaking his head to himself. “that kind of co-dependency is dangerous”.   
“i’m not co-dependant, i’m just in love”, pete argues. “i’m so in love with you. i just want to be married to you already. but what if i fuck it up, mikes? we’ve never been married before, what if touring is different? what if playing shows in different cities tears us apart?”.   
“babe”, mikey whispers, getting pete’s attention in that special way that only he can. “be an optimist for a second - there’s a whole world of firsts for us to figure out as a married couple. if things start to happen too fast, we can just slow them down, but i promise we’ll slow the world down together”. 

he’s right. things are happening very fast. if everything goes to plan, they’re going to be making the move to los angeles go have their very first house together. both of their bands think it’s a smart career move, so it’s only a matter of time before they’ll all be living out there, which means the next year of pete and mikey’s life is going to be heavily associated with cardboard boxes and moving vans. they’re not in their early twenties anymore. this is serious adult shit. 

but, of course, their honeymoon picks up right after the wedding, which means they’ve got a whole month of travelling alone together to feel as young as they did when they first met. when pete was just a “what if”. when mikey was just an “i’ll never know”. 

pete knows a month is enough to get used to the quickness. 

he can’t kiss him before he leaves, but he places his hand on the door, telling mikey to do the same.   
“i love you”, he whispers. “i love, love, love you”.   
“i love, love, love you more”, mikey responds, eyes brimming with tears, thankful pete can’t see him wiping them away with the cuff of his blazer. 

joe meets pete halfway down the stairs, grinning and hugging him. there’s been a lot of hugging today. pete fears it may never stop.   
“i was just coming to find you”, he says. “i have to find my seat, are you gonna be okay? you can back out if you want, you’ve done it once already”.  
“hey”, pete slaps his arm, but shakes his head. “i’m ready for this”.   
“then i’ll see you out there”.  
“i’ll be the one in white”.

pete and mikey are both in white, actually. fully suited, and the wedding party are all matching bar blue ties that match the flowers on the centrepieces. pete stands by the altar, giving himself mental abuse over not checking how breathable the fabric was before he had the suit made, because he’s sweating like a sinner in a church. taking gay marriage into consideration, he might technically be a sinner in a church right now. 

when the music starts up and he sees mikey walking down the aisle, gerard proudly on his arm, all apprehension floods his body. patrick squeezes his shoulder, and pete can hardly keep his mouth closed, figuring all their wedding photos will feature his completely gormless grin. 

“you look beautiful - this all looks beautiful”, mikey whispers when he finally makes it to the alter and stands beside pete.  
“not to bad yourself, way”, pete teases without realising that’s the last time he’ll ever get to call him that.

mikey stumbles through his vows first, squeezing tightly onto the hands of the man he’s about to marry, and then he’s shaking all the way through pete’s vows, because pete has such a way with words that he can bring mikey to tears with a simple sentence. he’s so raw, and so perfect, and mikey can only barely manage “i do” before the pairs’ lips collide and mikey begins flooding with tears. happy tears. the best kind. 

pete breathes out, and turns around.

“mikey wentz”, he says.  
“mr and mr wentz”, pete nods back.  
this is cathartic.

the dinner that follows is slightly less romantic, but pete has managed to wrangle together an enormous photobooth with a bucket full of props beside it, and mikey’s face lights up. he barely even touches his first course - soup, pete knows mikey would rather die than eat a salad - because he’s set on dragging his husband to the photobooth before anyone else does. it takes a few minutes to get across the floor because people are milling around between courses, and obviously they want to congratulate the newlyweds. 

pete picks up a stupid cowboy hat from the bucket and places it on mikey’s head, giving himself the matching one. “aren’t these a little gay?”, mikey asks, and he has a point because there’s a lot of feathers and sparkles involved. he hears frank, who’s leaning at the bar, snort.   
“you are a little gay, mikey wentz”.   
“what he said”, pete agrees with frank, pushing mikey behind the small curtain. 

pete’s sure the dumb photobooth photos of the loved up couple will stay in his wallet until the day he dies. when he goes over to show them to his “super proud” parents, they both ask for a copy. pete’s not sure where he’s going to find a photocopier in the middle of his wedding, but he’ll do it for them. 

and still, pete proves his perfection once again when everyone adjourns out to the courtyard after dinner, where there’s a dance floor and more flowers and glimmering lights strung over every branch of every tree. the newlywed couple are rushed out into the middle of the floor for their first dance, and pete cups a hand on mikey’s cheek. 

“hey”, he says. it’s such a vague statement: they’re both kind of tipsy, and they’ve not even taken off the dumb hats from earlier, but mikey gets it.   
“hey. i love you. you ready?”, he says, laying pete’s head on his beating heart.  
“always ready”. 

the band starts up, and pete gets it within the first few beats. it’s michael by franz ferdinand, which is one of the first songs pete ever sent to mikey, all that time ago when they were still young and dumb and messing around on tour. pete loves the song. mikey hated it at first, because it was way too literal and sort of pathetic, but he’s grown to appreciate it just as much as his other half. plus the face on pete when he recognises the lyrics is priceless. 

“so come and dance with me michael”, pete whispers as the tempo speeds up, and he realises he’s seeing the world through brand new eyes: as far as he’s concerned, there are no wedding guests observing. not a single person is in the room besides mikeyway - no, mikey wentz. he is tipsy, dancing to franz ferdinand with the love of his life. his husband. both of them are in stupid cowboy hats, grinning like it’s the first time they’ve met. this is everything pete has ever dreamed of. this is his spiritual revolt. mikey picked the perfect song. mikey is his versailles at night. mikey is his husband.

“michael, you’re the only one i’d ever want”. 

it’s a tired old tale for them both at this point, but it still rings true. there’s a bittersweet pain in pete’s chest where his heart is finally healing, and it’s all thanks to mikey for making him whole again.


End file.
